


Slipping

by Harlequinade13



Category: Bates Motel (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Body Horror, Dissociative Identity Disorder, F/M, Mother (Bates Motel), Self-Harm, season 5 episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 14:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11254989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harlequinade13/pseuds/Harlequinade13
Summary: "Your move," she said sweetly.Norman's fingers flexed. "I made you up." He shook his head. "You're not real."The smile fell. Norman couldn't decide if he wanted it back. 'Mother' leveled her gaze with his, eyes darkened with something wild and sinister. A twisted version of Norma Bates on her worst day.





	Slipping

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something that focuses a little more on horror so I expanded on the amazing scene in episode 6 of season 5. It focuses more on Norman and Mother. The lovely Marion Crane also makes an appearance!
> 
> Please let me know you think in the comments!
> 
>  **Content Warning** : blood. Check tags for more info.
> 
> Thanks for the beta, [Mishka_kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mishka_kitty/pseuds/Mishka_kitty).

'Mother' screamed at him with Norma Bates' voice, looked at him with the stolen, piercing eyes of his mother. The eyes they shared.

But still he refused to believe her even as she trashed the kitchen, the crash of the pots and pans as she threw them a mere echo of her fury. 

"Stop it," he demanded with the forced calm and barely hidden desperation of someone trying to use authority they didn't have.

His heart skipped a beat when she wrenched a knife from the holder on the counter. She brandished it high, a clear threat. "Say it."

Norman swallowed. The sudden silence clung to him, thick and intense. Norman looked at the knife and shook his head. "Don't."

"Say it, Norman," she hissed. "Say I'm real."

 _She's not real_ , he thought. _She can't hurt me_.

"No."

In the second during which his pretend Mother's expression did not change, Norman thought he'd won. And then she smiled. It was nothing short of maniacal, but in it was a complete certainty that chilled him. She thought she was right. 

She lifted her other hand and touched the tip of the knife to the tender skin of her inner wrist. 

"Your move," she said sweetly. 

Norman's fingers flexed. "I made you up." He shook his head. "You're not real."

The smile fell. Norman couldn't decide if he wanted it back. 'Mother' leveled her gaze with his, eyes darkened with something wild and sinister. A twisted version of Norma Bates on her worst day. 

Without warning or reaction, she cut herself. The tip of the knife split her skin and twisted before pulling out again. Blood welled to the surface and streamed down her arm. Bile rose in Norman's throat and he suddenly felt lightheaded and too hot.

"No," he choked out, unsure what he was saying 'no' to. 

'Mother' examined the cut with a clinical eye. "Could a made-up person do this, Norman?" she asked, voice too loud. "Could they bleed like this?" And then the knife rose again, drawing a red line across her wrist. "Well?" Another line. And another.

"Please, stop!"

Blood drip, drip, dripped onto the floor.

"Say I'm real."

Tears welled in Norman's eyes and streamed down his face. Dripping onto his shirt, onto the floor. 

"Say it, Norman!"

Another and another and another. Her arm was nothing but blood now. Raw, torn skin and blood and desperation. It stained her dress. But Mother knew how to get blood out of clothes. Mother could make this stop. 

"Say it! Say it's real! _I'm_. _Real_!" she screamed and, god, he wanted to protect her. He wanted it to stop. 

Over the roaring in his ears, he shouted, "Okay, okay! It's real- you're real!" 

He swayed on his feet. The knife clattered to the floor. Norman pitched forward and Mother was there to catch him. She held him like she always did. "Mother," he whispered. He rested his chin on her shoulder, her scent comforting. It masked the unmistakable coppery smell of blood. 

"I'm so sorry, honey," Mother said. She rubbed his back, stroked his hair. "I don't want to hurt you." 

Norman's vision swam. "Mother, I don't feel so well."

"Don't worry, Norman," Mother said. "I'll always take care of you." And then as Norman's vision darkened, Mother pulled back to press her forehead to his. "Let me handle things for you, sweetheart."

Then, darkness. 

 

Norman knew he'd lost time. He didn't remember walking back down to the motel but there he was outside of Room #1. He heard the crash, saw the money in the bag when he opened the door. He let her turn to him for comfort, her head on his shoulder, and suffered his own inner turmoil for it. She would have felt nice, he knew. They were both troubled; they could have found solace in each other. 

She fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket and asked, "Whoa, what happened to you?" 

There was concern in her voice but not surprise. This girl was jaded, too, in her own way.

Norman looked down at his sleeve, drawn up by where it'd caught on the bandages around his arm. With dull eyes, he traced the shape of her nail resting gently where the edge of the bandage met the back of his hand. The yellow polish she wore was such a happy color, such a contrast against the stark white of the bandages. The rest of her fingers were on his skin. Faintly, Norman registered the stiffness of an injury, the burn and pull of it even after what was no doubt antiseptic with a numbing agent. Mother always took care of him. Even when it shouldn't have been necessary. 

Norman felt the pull of a smile like the strain of bandages on a wound. 

_Oh, Mother_ , he thought. _You're slipping_.

And it was that thought which compelled him up, to push the girl at arms length, to gather her things and get her to leave, get her away from him. 

He felt immense relief when she drove away.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://harlequinade-13.tumblr.com/post/161903721888/i-agree-with-you-on-the-2ct).


End file.
